Jasmine
by Fading Grace
Summary: Both Cain and Riff are surprised when Riff is asked to marry a baron's daughter. Hints at slash, maybe. Fluffy. Oneshot.


I have no idea what this is about anymore. It got a little tangent-y. It's cute, though.

* * *

Cain smiled icily as he raised the teacup to his lips and drank. His guest smiled back with an inappropriate amount of confidence. Neither said a word.

Cain would have to take the initiative, then. "Lord Byron Fitzwalter. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Lord Byron was a man in his late forties, with white streaks in his blond hair and a small mustache. His daughter, if Cain remembered correctly, was named Marie Elizabeth, and had come out into society a year before. Oh, God, if this was going to be a marriage proposal…

Byron said, "Earl Hargreaves, if I may, I would like to broach a somewhat personal subject."

Cain frowned. It _was_. Where had this man been living, under a rock? After two years, Cain had finally convinced the parents of marriageable girls that he could slip them poisons to make them infertile, and they stayed away.

"My daughter, as you know, is now of a marriageable age," Byron said surreptitiously.

"So I understand," Cain sighed, swirling his tea.

Riff stepped forward from behind his chair and offered to pour Byron more tea. Cain watched with a malignant air. Some Baron wanting to pawn his daughter off to a wealthier family didn't deserve a drop of Riff's tea.

Byron finished, "I would like to arrange a marriage for her soon. The son of a late friend is as good a choice as any. Two lumps," he said to Riff.

"I understand," Cain said. "However, I cannot-"

"Riffael Raffit is employed in this house somewhere, I believe," Byron interrupted. He was already smirking at Riff, though.

Riff fumbled with the creamer, making the china clatter against its tray.

Cain's cold smile kept its place. "Oh, I see. In fact, Riffael is my head butler."

Riff finished wiping up the mess, straightened, and bowed, all in silence.

Byron said, "Indeed? I apologize, it doesn't do to be ordering a son-in-law-to-be about, to be sure. I'd never met any of Michael's family, and I lost the chance after the fire. I would have come sooner, but Marie Elizabeth and I have been traveling through the new colonies in Africa and Asia. I see that you've taken care of yourself, though, Riffael."

Riff nodded with his butler-trained frown. "I am honored that you would remember me, my lord."

"I took a look at Michael's will, in fact. He said that, not matter what, all of his children were to complete their educations in the event of his death."

Riff stiffened. The former Earl Hargreaves, Cain's father, had told him that no will could be found.

Cain scowled at Riff's expression.

Byron finished, "So, you were in medical school, it said. Did you graduate?"

Riff shook his head, struggling for composure. "After the fire, my lord, there was no money to keep me in school. I was apprenticed in the Hargreaves household."

"Really? But it said all those things about giving the remaining survivors of your immediate family an established trust, with a large amount of real estate and deposits!"

Riff looked carefully at the ground. Cain's father had apparently neglected to tell him about that, as well.

Cain uncrossed his long, thin legs and stood. "We've heard what you've come to say, Lord Byron. I think it would be best for you to return tomorrow and discuss it with Riff more privately."

"You know, I could take you back to my home this afternoon and entertain you for dinner," Lord Byron said to Riff.

Cain spoke before Riff had a chance to respond. "I'm afraid I can't allow that. However, you and Marie Elizabeth are both invited back." His tone became more forceful. "Tomorrow."

Bryon smiled. "Very well, Earl Cain. Riffael, we'll return tomorrow for tea. I hope you won't be serving us, though! Marie Elizabeth shouldn't get it in her head that she can order her future husband around!" He left the room laughing heartily, and Riff soundlessly shut the door behind him.

A silence descended over the room. Cain was sulking and refusing to look at Riff, and Riff couldn't try to fore Cain to say what was inevitable. Some things could be expected, after serving as head butler in the Hargreaves household for four years.

Finally, Riff said, "My lord, when will you take your supper?"

"I'll…be in the greenhouse. Please keep my sister company for me."

Riff nodded. There was nothing else he could do.

* * *

Cain was still in the greenhouse three hours later, as the twilight period ended and true darkness began to settle in. His silver-tipped cane struck the hard cobblestones again and again as he catalogued each of the plants.

There was foxglove, _Digitalis purpurea. _The leaves on the stem had the highest concentration of steroid glycosides compared to the rest of the plant. It was fatal to humans.

Next was a castor oil plant, _Ricinus communis_. If the seed was ground, the oil produced was purgative and had to be separated from the real poison. The seed meal contianed the deadly toxic protein Ricin.

Next was... Cain sighed. He had been going through them all for hours, and this plant was the only one that he couldn't place.

Suddenly, Riff was behind him and forcing a heavier jacket over his shoulders. "My lord, it is getting colder. You should go to bed."

Cain was more composed now. He stood looking at the unnamable plant and said, "He said it twice, you know."

"My lord?" Riff, while he was here, moved to a cupboard and removed a canister of water. With careful measurements, he began to give each plant its due.

Cain watched him. "Lord Byron called you his son-in-law-to-be, and his daughter's future husband. He said it _twice_."

"Indeed," Riff said. After a moment, he added, "You speak of it as though it were a crime, my lord."

"Riff, just call me Cain right now." Cain looked up at the moon, and put his arms through the sleeves of his jacket properly. Riff was nearly finished watering all of the plants. "You should write down the amounts for each plant, Riff. I've forgotten most of them."

"You never have to water them, my lord Cain," Riff pointed out, setting the canister back in its place.

"I'll have to from now on, won't I? No one else is allowed in here." Cain tapped his cane against the heavy ceramic pot of the mystery plant. "I can't seem to recognize this one, actually. Did I put it here?"

Riff took a moment to look up, and then nodded in understanding. "That is a jasmine plant, my lord Cain."

"I won't tell you to call me by name again, Riff," Cain said sharply. He relaxed and finished, "Why is there a jasmine plant in the greenhouse? My collection is that of poisons. I have a reputation to keep up."

Riff smiled wistfully. "I was going to dry the leaves and make you tea, my lord Cain."

"Just Cain, Riff."

"I remembered that you had some jasmine chamomile tea when we were traveling, and I don't trust other people to prepare your teas, my lord Cain."

Cain closed his eyes. "For once in your life, call me Cain. I won't be your lord after tomorrow." He paused and said, "I'm going to regret not having that tea, as well."

Riff stopped fussing with the different plants and faced his friend with squared shoulders. "Cain, if there is something you want to say, please tell me."

Cain grimaced and brushed his black hair out of his eyes with one hand. "If you're the head butler of this household, you must be dedicated to serving my needs. If I have to tell you, then I suppose it's good that you'll be the heir to the Fitzwalter barony and not head butler any longer."

"My lord-"

Cain turned toward the door. "You and Marie Elizabeth have my blessings. And I won't need your assistance preparing for bed tonight."

Riff had to watch him leave again.

* * *

The next day, Riff sat beside Cain on one side of the tea table while Byron and his pretty daughter sat on the other. Cain refused to look away from the wall to his left, and Riff habitually offered to pour tea. Marie Elizabeth was silent, as was expected of her at this point.

Lord Byron said, "Well, I think that this will work out splendidly. Michael, your father, was always telling me that one of his boys would be the perfect match for my Marie Elizabeth."

Cain said, "It's a fine betrothal. When will you make the announcement, Lord Byron?"

"I was planning on throwing a ball to celebrate later this week, in fact," Byron said enthusiastically. "You are, of course, invited, Earl Cain."

"Thank you, but I don't think I can attend," Cain said offhandedly.

"We haven't yet set a date," Byron protested.

Riff sipped his tea, set it down, and then said, "I decline the offer."

The abrupt silence was crushing.

Marie Elizabeth was the first to react, and it was with a bright smile. "Thank you so much, Mr. Riffael! Father, now I can marry who I want, can't I? That was our deal! You promised!"

Cain was staring at Riff.

Byron said quickly, "Riffael, can I not convince you? If you refuse, I have to allow my daughter to marry some gardener!"

"He's a botanist," she explained happily. "And very gifted. He's going to succeed."

Riff nodded. "I wish you well. I cannot leave this position."

Byron said, "Someone else can fill the position. Just think, I'm offering you a barony!"

"I understand that, Lord Byron, but I'm afraid I _must _decline. I simply cannot stand the thought of failing in my duties. I am necessary."

Cain was still staring at Riff. Riff carefully took the teacup out of his lord's limp hand before it fell. Cain started slightly, as if he were coming out of a daze, and said absently, "You have you answer, Lord Byron. I think it's time for you to leave…"

Riff stood. "I will show you out, if you like."

Marie Elizabeth, now all smiles, shot to her feet energetically and started chattering to Riff about the man he was allowing her to have. Lord Byron looked miserable, and didn't say another word as he left.

Cain was sitting in the same place on the couch when Riff returned. He asked, "Why did you refuse?"

Riff smiled warmly. "Why did you think that I wouldn't, my lord?"

Cain didn't look up at him for a long while.

Riff said, "If you will excuse me, sir, I'll begin drying the jasmine leaves now. They are ready."

"I look forward to the tea," Cain said. He turned and saw that Riff had already left.

* * *

And so, because I couldn't figure out what to name this, it is called 'Jasmine' on a lark. Yay. 


End file.
